


alptraum

by bluhen



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-29 10:33:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19828333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluhen/pseuds/bluhen
Summary: erbluhen emotion knows he is not long for this world. however, there's something he wants to do before then.





	alptraum

**Author's Note:**

> possible tw for talk of death. it's all hypothetical, since he won't really die, but he doesn't know this, and it's treated with that same tone.

He comes first to Arme, who scowls and commands him not to touch him like that. He pouts, puts on a theatrical show of whininess because he knows it’s what he expects, and he knows it’ll ease the burn of rejection.

He comes to Arme because they are kin, and he thinks this is the kind of person who is supposed to touch you affectionately, and he wants to feel this before he dies. (calling it death was scary, but he found it less so than the reality of what it was. if you died, you were at least remembered after you were gone, so thinking about it like that was easier.)

Because he was held before, once by Elsword, and once by Rena, both times with joy and affection in their limbs. It felt warm and lovely and many more words Erbluhen was only just now learning the true definitions of, even if he didn’t know it at the time. He wants to feel this again, because he thinks perhaps one of the saddest things about dying is that he will never get to feel that warmth again.

But he doesn’t want to push Arme into something he doesn’t want, because he doesn’t want to upset him, despite knowing the other angel does not feel upset, or anything at all. (and because the embrace, if he got one, would not be warm and loving like before, which is what erbluhen is aiming for. but that isn’t important right now.)

One wouldn’t really expect there to be any kind of warmth, or any kind of anything in Henir, but Erbluhen had learned better.

It feels a little bit like stepping into a pond, or maybe stepping onto a sheet of ice covering a pond and falling through, except he doesn’t get wet, just keeps falling and falling. But he’s walking as he does, and following the little trace of warmth he’s familiar with. The only piece of warmth in the entirety of the void. A marvel, and a blessing.

Though that light didn’t have any idea, couldn’t see it. And maybe he never would. Maybe that was part of being a light in the dark, was that others could feel it, but you never would yourself.

Erbluhen eventually finds the source of the warmth, and greets him with a friendly ‘hello.’ Of course, he doesn’t respond, he never does, but Erbluhen likes the act of a greeting.

He bows over to see him better. He’s sitting, or at least Erbluhen thinks he is, he looks like it. But he wasn’t sure where the surface of this place was, or if it was a place, or if it had one at all. So maybe they were just floating.

Well, either way. He situates himself in a similar position next to him, knees curled up to his chest. Leans on him gently.

“Apos, can I ask you for a favor?”

And Apostasia doesn’t say anything, simply makes a noncommittal noise, and Erbluhen has grown used to this, so he continues.

“I would like it very much if you gave me a hug.”

“...What?” His voice is soft and pseudo-hoarse.

“Are you familiar with it?”

“...Yes. But why?”

“Because I won’t be able to feel it anymore soon, and I want to do so one last time.”

“Why… did you come to _me_ …?”

Erbluhen hums. “Because I like you. And you understand a lot more about me than most people.”

Apostasia doesn't acknowledge him for a few moments. But then, after a bit, he slowly, awkwardly, extends his arms to him. Erbluhen happily situates himself in them.

...Ah. It did feel warm. Apostasia’s arms close around him, and he thinks maybe it shouldn't feel as warm as it does, but it does, and it's nice.

Was he supposed to think things of Henir were nice? Would Ishmael erase him even sooner if she knew of this?

Well, it wouldn't matter soon enough anyway. He nudges closer to the other angel, or whatever Apostasia was now.

“You're very warm, you know.”

A long pause. It always took Apostasia a moment to respond. “...You're the one who's warm.”

“Mm, but I'm fairly certain of what I feel right now, and it's definitely warm.”

“Broken and empty things… do not feel… anything at all.”

“Now, who told you any of that?” Erbluhen asks, leaning his head back to look up at Apostasia.

Apostasia doesn't answer. Erbluhen doesn't understand. Maybe he doesn't need to.

Did Apostasia enjoy this as well? _(could_ he enjoy things?) He scoots himself up more upright, face next to Apostasia’s, now.

“Do you want me to hug you too?”

“...I don't know.”

Well, let's try it anyway, Erbluhen thinks, forgetting the saying part of it. He rests his head on Apostasia’s collar and wraps his arms around his stomach so his hands link together on the other side.

He thinks, for a moment, that this is closer than he's ever been with anyone. Huh. Might as well get it down, since he won't have another chance, he supposes. Was Apostasia feeling anything?

He looks to his face again. His eyes are ever unchanging, but his expression looks softer, somehow, his air warmer, somehow.

“Apos,” he starts, “has anyone ever held you before?”

Apostasia shakes his head, slowly.

“So this is the first time?”

A nod, just as slow, and Erbluhen notices now, apprehensive, maybe.

“Do you feel happy?”

He takes a moment. His head falls light onto Erbluhen's, his eyes close. A silence that blankets them both comfortably. “...I don't know. Maybe.” Slowly, slowly, “I am not… sure… what my being happy feels like.”

“Well, maybe is better than nothing,” says Erbluhen, and lets himself feel as if made of feathers and in a soft bed at home, as togetherness sometimes does to you.

...Oh, his thoughts were turning again. He doesn't want to think of how now that he knows this warmth, he's just going to lose it. He makes an attempt to discard this train of thought, and focus on the feeling of being close with someone instead. 

Because this was now. He could have his death later. Now, he was warm, and still had time. He could still make the best of what he had left.

He looks out into nothing, and thinks that he will do the best he can to go through with this. The thing about nothing, was that it gave you a lot of space to think. He wonders if that was what Apostasia did here, thinking. Erbluhen is of the opinion that doing too much thinking must not be good for you, if it’s never split up by anything else, and he thinks maybe Apostasia should partake in a bit more doing, though he doesn’t know what there is to _do_ in the void. 

He supposes all there must be is thinking. He doesn’t know if dragging Apostasia out of the void would hurt him. Does he simply stay here because it’s easier? ...Either way, he wouldn’t want to upset him.

“Would you like to leave with me, for a bit?” he asks.

Apostasia barely moves his head, long unkempt hair falling over his shoulders. “...Why…?”

“I want to see the sun shine over the arcs in Elysion with you, and I wonder if you would like this as well.”

Apostasia shrinks in tighter on himself. “I don’t… know.” A pause, longer, longer. “Is it… nice?” An enthusiastic nod from Erbluhen. “...Warm?” Another. “...Maybe…”

“Now?”

“Now…?” He pulls himself closer, tighter. “Why… now?”

“Well, it doesn’t _have_ to be now, but I don’t know how much time I have left, is all.”

Apostasia stares holes into nothing. Slowly, slower, “...Alright.”

He gently asks Apostasia to take them to Elrios, as he may know how to enter this void, but he doesn't know how to leave, and he wordlessly obliges. It's almost routine, by now. Apostasia at the very least doesn't _seem_ to mind.

Where they end up is where Erbluhen was before, which, luckily, was right around Atlas Station. He tries not to think about how empty it feels now. Apostasia doesn't acknowledge it. Perhaps he doesn't even know. Had he ever gotten to meet Yuno…?

...Well, he never would, now. He briefly thinks about how no one else would ever get to meet _him_. Would Apostasia remember him, being another angel…? Or would he be erased from even his existence, his experience?

Ah, it was a dreadful train of thought. He cuts it off to call Apostasia to follow him. He goes along, though Erbluhen notices his demeanor here is not unlike a small child in a new place. He seems pensive, wary of his surroundings as if something might try to hurt him.

(though, it was like this before as well, but now he seems more like he'd cut whatever attempted down before it could touch him rather than cower in acceptance. he doesn't know if it's better or worse. perhaps it's neither.)

Apostasia seems not to know what to do with himself upon arriving at Elysion. Like a vampire shrinking away at the sun, or a flower wilting in heat, or something or other else, there were too many things to draw similarities to, and Erbluhen was getting caught up in them.

He pulls him by the hand as gently as he can through the walkways. Apostasia seems not to want to leave the shade, and that’s fine with Erbluhen. They sit together, and Apostasia looks much smaller when he’s not blending into the vast expanse of the void, Erbluhen notices. 

Much more frail. More fragile. Like something that needs protecting. The dark patches of his body where his skin appeared to flake away make his head hurt at this proximity. Perhaps he was protecting Apostasia, albeit from himself.

"Apostasia," he starts, "Why are you kind to me?"

Apostasia doesn't respond, not immediately. "...I am… kind?"

"In a way, yes. You let me come to see you, and talk to you of things I know full well you don't care for. You came here with me when there's no real benefit for you. But it makes me happy. In that way, yes, I believe you're kind."

Apostasia stares forward. He never does look Erbluhen in the eyes. "...That is selfish, not kind. I miss the earth. The shine… of life unique to it. ...You have that. I can see it, through you."

Erbluhen smiles. "You don't usually talk like that." He gets no reply. He redirects the collective train of thought. "You lord over things that pass, don't you?"

Apostasia nods. They both know it's not that simple, but neither need elaborate. Erbluhen sighs, wistful, tired, maybe.

"Do you think I'll come to you? When I die."

Apostasia stays quiet. Erbluhen continues. "I must say, I think I'd prefer that. It would be much less lonely, all the nothing, if I had someone else, don't you think?"

Apostasia nods, slowly. Erbluhen wonders if that's how Apostasia feels about his 'visits.' He knows he wouldn't get an answer, however, as well as that he doesn't particularly need one.

"Apostasia," he says, "would you ensure my death would be a peaceful one?"

"...I can't do that." Apostasia tells him plainly.

Erbluhen laughs. "Oh, I know that much. But, hypothetically. If you could, would you?"

A silence drawn out for what would be too long for someone unused to the corrupted angel's way of things. "...Of course. That is… the least a being like you deserves."

Erbluhen sighs. "It would be nice… I wish I could say goodbye, at least. I'd like to tell everyone that, and decide that I've done what I need to, and… Fade, quietly, among the flowers and dew of life. But that's not a privilege angels get, I know that. Still…"

He glances over to the other. He realizes only now that Apostasia is staring at him. 

"...Is that odd?"

"For an angel… yes. You… are not afraid." Apostasia pauses. "...Rather… You view your end as something sentimental, rather than simply ceasing to exist."

Erbluhen laughs, again. "And that's odd for an angel, isn't it."

Apostasia knows he's right, and so does he. "...You are more than just an angel."

"Ahh… Is that so? How interesting." He doesn't entirely understand what Apostasia means, though.

"You are a person. Not an angel." He states. They both know there is a stark difference between the two. Erbluhen is a bit taken aback.

Truthfully, the idea of being his own person instead of a living intent was terrifying, as appealing and wished for as it was.

He decides not to think about it for now. There was too much to think about, and too little time, and it was all rather overwhelming.

The sun is beginning to set. Warm evening light falls over them, and lights the city in a way that Erbluhen has always found stunning. The sun lays the earth to rest, and the moon watches over it while she rests herself.

Ah. His heart aches so very badly. He wants to see this same thing and so much more with everyone he’s come to love. He wants to tell them this, that he loves them and would love nothing more than to spend the rest of his days in moments like these with them. 

But telling them that was scary, and he’s been so cold thus far, and there’s no time, and everything was so intensely frightening.

The air cools around them. He shivers, and it makes Apostasia stare. He simply laughs. Right, angels weren't supposed to feel the weather, much less care about it.

Angels weren't to be sentimental, either. They weren't to deny their purpose, or their end. Everything about him was wrong in the eyes of Ishmael.

Perhaps it was best that 'he' would soon end. Maybe to end this way, naturally and as intended from his very beginning, would be better than being forcefully cut down by Ishmael for defying her.

He shivers, again. It… was a scary thought. Apostasia cocks his head, a slight motion barely noticeable if not for the way his long hair falls delicately over his face when he does.

“...Are you cold?”

Erbluhen is caught off guard by the statement. Then, after a moment, he laughs, and loses himself in doing so.

“...I don’t understand. Why are you laughing? I asked a question.”

“No, no, it’s fine! I’m not laughing at you.” He clarifies, though he knows Apostasia doesn’t care if he’s laughing _at_ him or not, nor does he comprehend that notion, but he forgets he’s not speaking to a person for this moment. “It’s just… I suppose I am a person, after all, if you can ask that sort of thing, huh?” He pauses. “And… I’m not cold, no. It’s warm out.” He knows Apostasia can’t feel it, though, so he uses a tone of gentle explanation rather than teasing. “I’m just thinking.”

“I understand that.” says Apostasia, after a long pause. Of course Apostasia would understand that, what with it being likely most of what he does, now. Erbluhen realizes he might not be around for when that changes.

He also realizes with the setting sun that it’s late, and he needs to be with the others, and that he’d stayed out far later than he’d intended to. (but he didn’t want to leave. he was scared to.)

But something he’s learned is that confidence is about acting despite that fear. He stands, holds his hand out for Apostasia to take. He follows, pensively letting his hand close around Erbluhen’s as he lifts him up. He has a slightly confused look in his eyes that says he doesn’t know _why_ Erbluhen did that, simply took the gesture because it was offered. Erbluhen doesn’t let go of his hand. Apostasia’s eyes fixate on that.

“I… think I’ve got to go. There are people waiting for me.”

“And… that is why you return to them?”

Erbluhen nods. “It’d be rude to leave them waiting.”

Apostasia looks up at his face as he says that for a moment, then back to their hands. “...If I… were to wait for you… would you return to me…?”

Erbluhen blinks, surprised. “I… would certainly try, if I were still around to do so. Would that be okay?”

Apostasia nods after a moment, letting his hand fall out of Erbluhen’s. “...If I wait.”

“If you wait.” Erbluhen repeats with a smile. Apostasia words it like a hypothetical, but he knows, somewhere, that he’s being perfectly serious about it. Had he been lonely…? ...Well, it certainly seemed like one would be, all alone with nothing but darkness. His smile grows softer. “I’ll see you, then. You’ll go back on your own?”

He asks, but they both know the answer, that Erbluhen can’t come back to Henir with him. Apostasia stares back at him a moment longer, before pulling his gaze away and stepping into his self-made blindingly dark abyss that would lead him to Henir.

Erbluhen lingers, feeling empty in a way he struggles to find a way to describe to himself. Well, he’s lingered long enough already.

When he returns to the people he would now feel comfortable calling his family, they fret over him, wondering where he’s been. He tells them he was visiting an old friend, though he fails to elaborate when they prod him for more. He’s happy to be back among them, more than he’s ever been before.

It feels warm. Friendly? These were his friends, after all. ...Right.

Ah, he would miss them dearly. (he knows this is untrue, as he wouldn’t be around to. but it’s something he feels very deeply in his heart.)

(his heart…) 

That night, Erbluhen watches over the search party instead of sleeping.


End file.
